Belly Up To The Griddle, Grizelda!
by coffeeplease
Summary: I've tried and tried to format this correctly, but it is not working, so I'm posting it. It'll be a bit hard to read, but you'll get the general idea. Postep for Third Day Story. JD, bit of CJT. Feedback is greatly appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

Title: Belly Up To The Griddle, Grizelda! (1/3)

Author: coffeeplease

Rating: YTEEN (some curses)

Category: post-ep for Third Day Story, Humor, AU

Spoiler Info: Third Day Story, No Exit, Gaza, Memorial Day, Leadership Breakfast, Debate Camp, Election Night, The one where Toby talks about "Miss Julia Child"... okay, everything up to Third Day Story.

Disclaimer: WB, NBC, John Wells, Aaron Sorkin... owners. I just lease and try not to stain the carpet. Lawsuits don't look good on me.

E-mail address for feedback: permission: Sure, just tell me first

Notes: (1) This is a bit AU. Josh and Donna are... well, progressing in their relationship. Not quitting their jobs and going their separate ways like John Wells had them. Assume a tiny bit of CJ/Toby, too.

(2) I would think that smart men like Toby and Josh know what a leek is, but for the sake of humor, let's assume they don't.

(3) I would love any feedback you have on this one. It is mostly dialogue.

"How did you get... us... into this, Josh."

"It was a stupid bet."

"But it was a stupid bet that you took. A stupid bet about sugar donuts or something..."

"C.J. wants to make sure that no one else on staff has any further health problems."

"Having you and I cook is a way to ensure that?"

"The logic fails me as well."

"Still... this was your bet. And yet somehow I am standing here..."

"Yes..."

"With the Good Housekeeping Book of Recipes in my hand and a floppy hat..."

"Toby..."

"On my head. I have a floppy hat on my head, Josh."

"Yes. Yes, you do."

"And this is going to improve our health how?"

"I... don't know exactly. Look, it was a stupid bet."

"Yeah, I got the stupid part of it."

"A stupid bet that if I could eat... I dunno... like a girl for a week, then she would cook me dinner. But then she caught me."

"She caught you?"

"Well, first she entrapped me with brownies and pizza. And then she caught me with a..."

"With a what, Josh?"

"With a box of... Krispy Kreme..."

"You couldn't have waited until you got home?"

"I was hungry! Look, all you and I have to do is cook her and Donna one meal and then nothing but donuts, pizza, cheeseburgers and beef jerky until the end of the administration. This will shut them up."

"First, I'm sure they can hear us from the living room, so forget about the pizza, cheeseburgers and donuts. That's a pipe dream now. You and I will now be eating nothing but bran muffins until Inauguration, that I can assure you of. Second, it still doesn't explain why you dragged me into this!"

"I can't cook! I needed help! You're my wingman."

"I'm your wingman so you curse me with bran muffins and a floppy hat? That's not how you treat your wingman."

"It won't be bran muffins, it'll probably be something like... I don't know... salad."

"That's great. Just great. I've had wonderful experiences with women trying to get me to eat more salad."

"Look, we can cook this meal and prove to them, those two women, WHO I KNOW ARE SNICKERING ON THE COUCH RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND, that we will not be bested. Or we can go out there and have them laugh at us. And mock us. And humiliate us. And we will never hear the end of it. We will be the two men who can run the country but can't cook an omelet."

"We're making omelets? For dinner?"

"That's the only thing I know how to cook."

"Good, cause that doesn't have any cholesterol or fat in it."

"I can... make toast?"

"Let me look at this damn book..."

"Maybe we should help them?"

C.J. shook her head.

"No, they're big boys. Big boys in floppy hats. Floppy hats, my friend."

"Nice touch."

"I took Josh's ammunition and threw it right back at him."

"I'm kind of... afraid, C.J. I've already had one near death experience this year."

"They can't be that bad at it. They can read. They can measure. They know how to turn on an oven."

"Are we sure they know how to turn on the oven?"

"Do you really want to wheel yourself in there and end up doing all the work?"

"No, no... I do not. I have to say I am enjoying their humiliation, well, Josh's humiliation, but..."

"But?"

"I'm hungry."

"Me, too."

"Starving."

"Maybe we should get out the Chinese menu, just in case."

"I have a Carolina Chicken Pilau, I don't know what that is, a Chicken with Tomato and Olives over Polenta, you don't have any olives and... Chicken Osso-Buco Style which sounds well beyond the realm of possibility."

"Basic chicken, Toby. Tell me they have a recipe for just basic chicken."

"Turn the oven on and throw it in."

"We can't just turn the oven on and throw it in! We've got to... spice it or something."

"We have to spice the chicken?"

"Braise it or marinate or something..."

"What do we marinate the chicken in?"

"I really don't have the answer to that question."

"Well, I still don't have a satisfactory answer to why I'm doing this, either."

"Just... go back to the book. Find me basic chicken."

"I don't need to find one. I'm looking right at one."

"Book, Toby! Recipe!"

"A basic chicken in a floppy hat holding some breasts!"

"Not the good kind of breasts!"

"Did he just say "Not the good kind of breasts"?"

"I believe he did, yes..."

"C.J., I'm kind of incapacitated here..."

"Right."

C.J. stood up and made her way into the kitchen.

"Ouch!"

C.J. walked back to the living room.

"I see you got struck there, Josh, for your breast comment."

"I was saying that the female kind are better than the chicken kind. You know... I was complimenting them."

"I don't think they took it that way."

"C.J. only hit me because Donna didn't want to wheel herself in here."

"Well, you and I will probably never see the female kind again if we can't figure out the chicken kind, so lets focus on the task at hand."

"Did you find something in there?"

"Chicken Breasts with Vegetables... sounds pretty basic. Although I'm sure you and I will screw it up."

"Undoubtedly."

"We need two medium-sized leeks. Leeks?"

"That's something we usually try and avoid."

"Yeah... medium-sized... so the Washington Post printing the details of our trade negotiations with Uruguay is apparently called for in this recipe."

"Seems a bit drastic for Good Housekeeping."

"Lets keep going with the recipe... maybe it'll call for a half-teaspoon of coup d'etat."

"Leeks? Aren't those green..."

"Leeks are onions, you dumb-asses!"

"Don't tell them that! They'll just put regular onion in!"

"Right."

"Besides, we can't help them, Donna. We can't. This is about the Sisterhood."

"I think its kind of sad that two grown men can't cook for themselves."

"Strange, you know, that both Leo and the President can cook, but these two can't. They were raised with equal rights, they call themselves feminists and yet they have no clue what a leek is."

"Maybe its that the President and Leo were married."

"You think Dr. Bartlet and Jenny did the same thing we're doing."

"Sat around drinking Chardonnay, hoping the men didn't set the apartment on fire? Maybe..."

"They were probably drinking more expensive Chardonnay than this."

"Right... My mother told me that cooking for her husband, my father, was her way of telling him that she loved him. That he brought home the bacon and she deep fried it for him. Of course, my father had a heart attack three years ago..."

"I remember..."

"So I'm thinking of expressing my love with salad..."

"Right."

"Low-fat dressing."

"He'll hate that."

"My father doesn't even like bacon. Also, my mother is hardly a feminist. She taught me to cook so I would be able to "snare a good catch." Donna made quote marks with her fingers. "Which reminds me, more fish on Josh's diet, too."

"My mother taught me to cook, but more so that I didn't starve rather than the trapping of a potential mate... You know, there may be another reason why those two are so inept in the kitchen."

"What?"

"Well, they're from Connecticut and New York, two areas which have take-out and delivery, like D.C. You and I are from Ohio and Wisconsin, two states in which take-out and delivery are pretty scarce."

"You could still get good pizza delivered to my house."

"But did you have it everyday? Donna, you know New Yorkers. A home-cooked meal is the Chinese place on 16th street, twenty minute delivery time tops."

"True. Very true. But I think we'd find single men from the East Coast who are still able to cook. It must be just that Josh and Toby are... Josh and Toby."

"True... So, have you ever cooked for Josh?"

"C.J., I have much better ways of snaring a good catch than my tuna fish casserole."

"Go to the grocery store, Toby."

"To do that, I have to go through the living room. Through the war zone, where Thelma and Louise are sitting there with the Chinese take-out menu in their hand."

"The recipes calls for leeks, baby eggplants, yellow peppers and dried basil leaves. None of which I have, half of which I've never even heard of."

"You've never heard of an eggplant?"

"I was... exaggerating! Go to the store so we can prove our manhood!"

"We can prove our manhood by buying dried basil leaves?"

"Yes! No... not that in particular."

"I think it proves the exact opposite."

"It proves to them, WHO BETTER NOT BE DRINKING ALL THE BOOZE IN THE HOUSE, that we are men, that are we are capable and that we can cook chicken all by ourselves."

Toby moved towards the kitchen door.

"We are... so whipped, Josh."

"Just buy the damn basil and... stuff."

"And what will you be doing while I'm gone?"

"I'll bang around with pots and pans... make it look like I'm doing something."

"So the same thing you do at work."

"Basically."

Josh flopped into the recliner across from the two women.

"He's going to get Thai, isn't he?" C.J. asked.

"No, no, no... we didn't have all the ingredients."

"Didn't have... you two really don't have any clue what you're doing, do you?"

"We have a clue, thank you very much, Donnatella!"

"Josh, you buy the ingredients beforehand. You pick the recipe beforehand."

"Maybe that's how you do it, but Toby and I prefer to work off the cuff."

"Oh, good Lord." C.J. put her head in her hand.

"Josh, you are over forty. How come you don't know how to cook?" Donna asked.

"Um... I plead the fifth."

"Joshua..."

"My mom tried to teach me, but I was thinking of other things at the time. Like baseball and... girls..."

"You were thinking about girls while your mom was trying to teach you to cook?"

"It was a general preoccupation, C.J. I wasn't fantasizing about Suzie Tomlinson while my mom was teaching me how to peel a potato."

"You were, weren't you?" Donna narrowed her eyes at him.

"Little bit."

Donna turned to C.J. "Well, I think its sexy if a man knows how to cook."

Josh perked up.

C.J. nodded in agreement. "Self-sufficiency is a big turn-on."

"That and it also shows that he's evolved. That he doesn't consider cooking a woman's realm."

"That we belong the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant."

"I never said that!" Josh sat up straight. "I'm a feminist, I would never even think that!"

"Nobody accused you of anything, Josh," C.J. stated primly. "I wouldn't marry a guy who couldn't cook."

"Marry? I wouldn't date a guy who couldn't." Donna peered over her wine glass at Josh. His eyes widened and for a moment, he looked like the proverbial deer in headlights.

Josh grinned. "Okay, you two are playing me."

Donna smiled sweetly. "You'll never know, will you, cupcake?"

It was then that Toby returned with the leeks, baby eggplants, yellow peppers and dried basil leaves. Josh stood up, grabbed his wingman and bolted for the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Belly Up To The Griddle, Grizelda! (2/3)

Author: coffeeplease

Rating: YTEEN (some curses)

Category: post-ep for Third Day Story, Humor, AU

Spoiler Info: Third Day Story, No Exit, Gaza, Memorial Day, Leadership Breakfast, Debate Camp, Election Night, The one where Toby talks about "Miss Julia Child"... okay, everything up to Third Day Story.

Disclaimer: WB, NBC, John Wells, Aaron Sorkin... owners. I just lease and try not to stain the carpet. Lawsuits don't look good on me.

E-mail address for feedback: permission: Sure, just tell me first

Notes: See Part One

"This needs to be excellent, Toby."

"I think we should shoot for edible, Josh."

"They need to be drooling. They need to be fawning. They need to be licking their lips with anticipation."

"I like the visual of them licking their lips and fawning, although the visual of them drooling is off-putting to say the least, but we have a better chance of getting gay marriage sanctioned by the Catholic church."

"We'll do that tomorrow, Toby, tonight we need to knock their pantyhose off."

"You aren't sexist in the least."

"Donna says she won't date a guy that can't cook."

"And the real reason we're doing this comes out."

"No! That's not... that's not the real reason. It was the stupid bet. But if she... well... I wanna... you know, make sure that I pass muster. For reasons beyond my understanding, this is important to me."

"A five year old would understand. You like Donna. You want to date Donna. You want to hold her books between class."

"That's not really the item of Donna's I want to hold... ouch!"

"C.J. can't hear us."

"So you're her wingman, too?"

"I'm her something. So no more denial. You're telling me flat out. You're doing this to win over Donna."

"No, I'm doing this because of the stupid brownies and pizza. But if I can impress Donna, show her that I'm self-sufficient and date-worthy..."

"I would think flying to Germany..."

"Let's not talk about all that. Look, remember Team Toby? Well, now its Team Josh. And Team Josh is all about cooking the most delicious chicken and green onion thingys so that C.J. shuts her yap, so that no one else has a heart attack and so that I can... well... "

"Get some play with your much younger assistant?"

"Its not that Toby. Jeez..."

"I'm just... giving you a hard time. Fine. We'll try and make culinary history. Apparently its not enough that you and I will be making actual history..."

"Well, so will C.J. and Donna, so I doubt they're impressed by that."

"I should remind you that Team Toby failed to convince my pregnant ex-wife to marry me."

"I think Donna and I have to, you know, date first before we get married, divorced and pregnant."

"Just hand me the damn hat and recipe."

"Where are the two of you now?"

"Huh. In his apartment."

"No, I mean... what's going on?"

"You're still the press secretary for the next couple days... plausible deniability... plausible deniability..."

"His eyes bugged out of his head when you said you wouldn't date a man that can't cook."

"I don't think we'd need to date each other, C.J. Dates are for people who don't know anything about each other. I know his credit card numbers, his mother's maiden name and his inseam."

"But he doesn't know that about you. Besides, you deserve the candlelight dinner with the roses and the violinist."

"The deputy chief of staff and his assistant?"

"Why not?"

"Am I speaking to the same C.J. Cregg who told me to do anything that doesn't have to do with Josh Lyman?"

"Yes and for your career, I think you should go to symposia and what not. I still think you should be moving onwards and upwards. I just... I..."

"What?"

"He was... crying, Donna. Not sobbing or anything. But there were tears in his eyes when we were in the bullpen staring at MSNBC, after Andy told Toby that you were in the other car. He went into his office and put his head on the desk and... he was crying."

"I cried for hours when he was shot."

"I know."

"It was... I can't talk about Germany. C.J., that's a bit too private between Josh and I."

"I understand. Its just... people I love, people Josh loves, hell, people Toby loves, although he'll never admit it, are almost dying it seems like everyday. You, Leo... and Josh complains because I want him to eat better. Mortality is so easy to forget sometimes. And some things are more important than the scandal they may create or the pain they may have caused in the past. You know what I mean?"

"I'm the one who almost died, C.J. I know what's important, I know Josh is important. We both... there are certain things that were said, you know? I can't go into them, but its not like... it was before."

"Okay."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. As long as you two are figuring it out, that's what's important."

"Speaking of figuring it out..."

"Why the hell would they tell us to preheat the oven at step number two? Wouldn't that be step number one?"

"I never knew peppers had so many seeds in them."

"You'd think that would be the first thing. Before the list of the ingredients. The first thing they should tell you is to turn the damn oven on."

"Josh, all these seeds... is there a better way of doing this?"

"Why are using a paper towel?"

"I don't want to touch them!"

"Those are seeds from a yellow pepper, Toby. I don't think they're contagious."

"You know what? I'll... I'll... I'll rinse them. I'll rinse them and the seeds will caught in the drain and then you will have yellow pepper plants infesting your sink. Growing so large they break through the ceiling."

"Yeah... I don't think that's going to happen, Toby."

"Little Shop of Horrors, right here in your kitchen."

"Well, I've got bigger problems than the carnivorous pepper plants. I was supposed to turn the oven on. Preheat, it says. Pre, like, before you do anything else."

"I think they may mean before we put the chicken in."

"Then why don't they just say heat the oven? Why don't they just say turn the oven on? And is there more the preheating than just heating? Do we have to clean it or something?"

"No, because if we did, it would say clean the oven."

"Why don't they just say turn the oven on?"

"I don't know! Why don't we call up Good Housekeeping and ask them? Better yet, lets get some congressional hearings fired up on this. Why do recipes say preheat instead of heat, Senator? What, Senator, what are you saying? We should just turn the damn oven on?"

"Let's ask the Senator about your killer plants that can grow without dirt in my sink!"

"You never know what Mother Nature is going to throw at you."

You're a writer. You should be more bothered by this."

"Turn the oven on, Josh."

"Fine."

"Josh?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever cleaned your oven?"

"Well, they turned the oven on."

"Donna, you do know where the fire extinguisher is, right?"

"They won't set the apartment on fire."

"Josh almost set the White House on fire, Donna."

"But he was with Sam. Toby is much more... flame-retardant than Sam."

"I'm not sure what that has to do with anything."

"I'm sure they won't set the apartment on fire."

"Well, as long as you're sure."

"I mean, it's not like the oven is welded shut or anything."

"Right."

"In fact, I doubt the oven has ever been used."

"Josh does know how to open his own oven, doesn't he?"

"I'm sure we'll soon find out."

"I don't think I have a pastry brush."

"I don't know if I'd admit to having one even if I did."

"And a pastry brush? We're not making pastry, right?"

"No, because cooking is one thing. Baking would be taking this too far."

"Right."

"Maybe one day you and I will be men enough to bake, but tonight we should just stick to the basics."

"This basic chicken is a lot more complicated than it advertises."

"So... a pastry brush... a brush... maybe a toothbrush?"

"I think you want to glaze the chicken and vegetable with the stuff, Toby. Not scrub it in like you're trying to remove some plaque."

"Well, we could try the paper towels?"

"Paper towel is the all-purpose cooking utensil for you, isn't it? No... I got it. I've got it. Be right back."

"Josh, where are you going?"

"The recipe called for a brush."

C.J. turned to look at him. "The chicken we're eating tonight doesn't have hair attached, does it?"

"No! I'm not getting a hairbrush."

"Josh..."

He went into the guest bedroom. C.J. and Donna exchanged looks of both amusement and fear. He returned quickly.

"No, Josh!"

"Its a brush!"

"Its a used paint brush!" Donna twisted in her wheelchair.

"I was going to clean it!"

"With turpentine? That'll go real well with the chicken."

"Donna, I don't have a pastry brush."

"Top cabinet on the left near the back. Your Mom gave you a set of brushes. Hanukkah, 2002."

Chagrined, Josh set the brush down on the end table and proceeded back to the kitchen, muttering "my way would have worked, too."

C.J. looked at Donna. "You know where the man's pastry brushes are. Maybe you don't have to date after all."

"Okay... I think they may mock us for that."

"Us?"

"Me. Okay? Me. But as long as the chicken makes Donna..."

"Josh, you know, you probably could have said it with flowers."

"Flowers have kind of a bad history with us. The last time I got her flowers... they ended up on the floor of the hospital."

"You had a fight?"

"No, she had an embolism. She... she never got them. I tossed them somewhere when I was trying to find out what had happened."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"What about chocolate?"

"That I could have done, no problem."

"But cooking dinner..."

"It was the bet, Toby. I didn't know before tonight that Donna considers a man who can cook a turn-on! If I had, don't you think I would have enrolled in cooking school by now?"

"With the enormous amount of free time you have, given that your current job isn't at all demanding?"

"I would have watched one of those cooking shows. Hey, you watched Julia Child. How come you don't know how to cook?"

"I watched for the joy that is Miss Julia Child. I did not absorb any of her genius."

"Too busy thinking about girls?"

"Little bit."

"You blew his brain, Donna."

"I know."

"He's all flustered because he thinks you want a man who can cook."

"I do want a man who will cook, C.J. The "can" part doesn't mean much. I can teach Josh to cook, no problem. Just as long as he's willing to learn and willing to cook, that's all I ask."

"Right, you want it to be equal."

"The ideal situation is where we'd come home after work and cook together."

"Agreed."

"But its fun to listen to him squirm about it."

"Definitely."

"You still holding on to that Chinese menu?"

"Like a life preserver."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Belly Up To The Griddle, Grizelda! (3/3)

Author: coffeeplease

Rating: YTEEN (some curses)

Category: post-ep for Third Day Story, Humor, AU

Spoiler Info: Third Day Story, No Exit, Gaza, Memorial Day, Leadership Breakfast, Debate Camp, Election Night, The one where Toby talks about "Miss Julia Child"... okay, everything up to Third Day Story.

Disclaimer: WB, NBC, John Wells, Aaron Sorkin... owners. I just lease and try not to stain the carpet. Lawsuits don't look good on me.

E-mail address for feedback: permission: Sure, just tell me first

Notes: See Part One

"We did it."

"Yes, Josh."

"We actually did it."

"Well, we're not quite done. According to this, we have to baste with the pan drippings."

"But the chicken is in the oven. We can see the finish line. And it actually looks... I dunno... like food... we have to baste?"

"It says "baste occasionally." It says nothing about a finish line."

"Occasionally is pretty vague."

"Yeah."

"Good Housekeeping kinda skimps on the important details."

"I think they assume a basic familiarity with cooking terminology in writing their recipes."

Toby and Josh joined C.J. and Donna in the living room.

"Where's our food?" C.J. asked.

Toby and Josh looked at each other. "We were supposed to be making... you... food?" Toby asked mockingly.

"I'm thinking of the pork Moo Shu, C.J." Donna teased.

"Maybe some spring rolls and scallion pancakes," C.J. added.

"Its in the oven, its heating or post-heating or whatever, we just have to baste it occasionally... C.J., put away your cell phone." Josh settled further into his armchair.

"So its chicken and..." Donna asked.

"Vegetables." The men chimed in.

"And...?"

"And what?"

"A side dish of some sort, usually a vegetable, sometimes a starch?" C.J. took a sip of wine.

Toby and Josh stared at the two women, mouths agape.

"There were side dishes involved in the deal?" Josh asked incredulously.

"Chicken breasts and vegetables won't feed four people, boys." C.J. said.

"I think you underestimate the amount of breasts that are currently basting in my oven, Claudia Jean."

"Wow, that sounds wrong," Donna giggled.

"A side dish," Toby muttered.

"No, no, no... there were no side dishes mentioned... dinner, floppy hats..." Josh stuttered.

"A side dish is part of dinner, mi compadre. I'm sure if we called the President, who, by the way, can cook, he would no doubt give the two of you a nice, long lecture on the importance of starch in a meal."

"Maybe a side salad instead of a starch," Donna added.

"We haven't even lost the bet yet and you're already starting in on the salads!" Josh screeched.

"Go back into the kitchen, boys." C.J. pointed to the kitchen door.

"But... we want some wine," Josh... whined.

"To the kitchen!"

"You could have just bought her some damn chocolate," Toby muttered.

"And chocolate would be lovely, Toby. For dessert. But now we want a side dish." Donna stated sweetly.

"I still fail to see how this was part of the original deal."

"Go!" C.J. yelled.

"Go!" Donna yelled.

"Go!" The two woman yelled and pointed in unison.

"Weird sense of deja vu here," Toby muttered as he and Josh stalked dejectedly towards the kitchen.

"Get out in that kitchen!" C.J. continued.

"Rattle those pots and pans!" Donna added. Both women began to giggle.

"I'm a hungry woman!" C.J. finished, laughing.

"Great, we've got Bill Haley and her little comet out here," Josh muttered as he opened the kitchen door.

"I think all these side dish recipes call for ingredients you don't have."

"Since I don't have anything, you're probably right."

Toby flipped quickly through the book. Josh sighed dejectedly.

"We've lost. Face it, Toby. We were caught unaware by that whole side dish thing and now we're gonna lose, they're gonna mock us forever, we're gonna have to eat salad with low-fat dressing and Donna will never date me."

"I doubt your ability to cook is the deal breaker with Donna."

"Still..."

"You want to impress her."

"I want to make her happy."

"Again, you flew to Germany..."

"But that... Toby, that was different. I want to make her happy without a near-death situation involved. Like on an everyday basis."

"A near-death situation is involved in our current predicament."

"But its not mine nor Donna's near-death situation. Look... I need to show Donna I can take care of myself so that she doesn't, you know, think that she's going to be taking care of me for the rest of our lives. I need to be able to take care of her sometimes."

"That's a surprising amount of maturity coming from you."

"I'm surprised myself."

"But you picked her up from the airport, helped rearrange her apartment so she can get along better in the wheelchair, you're paying for the extra physical therapy..."

"All of which is related to the near-death situation. We've already proven we can take care of each other when one of us almost croaks. This is about everyday stuff. You know, not an attempted assassination or terrorist bomb."

"Right, because I imagine those won't be everyday occurrences for the next forty years."

"Well, knowing our luck..."

"Couldn't you have... I don't know... built her gazebo or something?"

"You think you and I would be better at that?"

"Probably not. We'd probably accidentally nail ourselves to something."

"Donna doesn't want a gazebo. She doesn't have anywhere to put a gazebo. She wants a man who can cook. Dammit, I want to be that man."

"Then you should never have mocked me about Miss Julia Child."

"I regret that now."

Toby's face became determined.

"Okay... side dishes... do you have any rice?"

"That usually comes to me in a white carton."

"Potatoes?"

"I don't know... Toby, we've lost!"

"No. No, I am not conceding. After seven years of watching you sabotage dates and moan about inns and whine about gomers, you're actually making a positive move and I don't think you and I should be bested by something as small as a side dish. Also, Miss Haley out there, our new boss, should be put in her place. Just so she won't ever quote a bastardized version of a blues song to us again."

"I agree, but I don't think I have any potatoes. And if one of us goes out to the store again..."

"More ammunition for them."

"Agreed."

"C.J... when you lost the bet and she told you you had to cook her a meal, she didn't... specify the amount of help, right?"

"Well, she immediately suggested you."

"Figured that."

"But no, she didn't."

"Give me your cell phone."

"Charlie!"

"Apparently, my services are required." He was carrying a large sack of redskin potatoes.

"The college graduate with the redskin potatoes, huh?" C.J. took sip of wine.

"Okay... you two have been drinking wine for awhile now, right?"

"I dunno... couple of hours, it seems like..." Donna lolled her head towards Charlie.

"I see. Well, keep drinking. Team Josh can use all the help it can get."

He entered the kitchen.

"Team Josh?" Donna turned to C.J.

"I don't have to wear a floppy hat, right?"

"No, you're the ringer. Ringers don't have to wear floppy hats," Toby answered.

"I'll put on an apron if it helps Team Josh."

"I don't have an apron, but I appreciate the thought," Josh said.

"How do we cook the potatoes?" Toby asked.

"In a pan," Charlie answered.

"Do we need to marinate them like the chicken?" Josh asked.

"We should probably cook them with some oil or butter and some herbs."

"Herbs?"

"Like oregano or basil or something... you guys don't know anything about this? How do you feed yourselves?"

"Take-out," they both answered.

"Everyday?"

"We're two single guys from the East Coast. That's just our way." Josh answered.

"I'm a single guy from the East Coast. Doesn't mean I can't cook a killer Chicken Osso-Buco Style when the need arises."

"I knew the Osso-Buco was going to come back to haunt us." Toby muttered.

"So, I'll just start cutting the potatoes..." Charlie was quickly interrupted.

"No!" Toby and Josh shout in unison.

"We have to do this ourselves," Toby explained.

"I have to prove to Donna..."

"Say no more. What do you want me to do?"

"Keep them occupied."

"Distract them until we're done."

"Do I get to eat, too?"

"Umm..." Josh looked around. "I don't know if we've made enough food."

"That's okay. I'm here for Team Josh, not for a free meal."

"Okay... so go out there and make sure they aren't saying mean things about us," Toby instructed.

"I'm not sure I can stop them from their favorite pastime, but I'll do my best."

Charlie left the kitchen.

"Herbs, Toby?"

"Oh my God it looks edible!" C.J. exclaimed as she sat down.

Donna primly put her napkin on her lap. "Wow... I mean, I thought at the very least you guys would burn the eggplant."

Toby and Josh exchanged satisfied grins.

"And even though the potatoes went in late, they look... cooked." C.J.'s eyes were wide with amazement.

"With herbs," Donna added.

"Let's not be too hasty, Donna. We have to taste it first." C.J. winked at her coconspirator.

"You still have the menu, right, C.J.?"

"Enough!" Josh intoned as he poured himself some wine. "One of you ladies taste the damn thing and Toby and I will then bask in our glory while you wallow in your defeat."

"Donna, dear..."

"Oh no, C.J., I insist. It was your bet."

"He's your boyfriend!"

Donna and Josh's eyes went wide.

Donna recovered quickly. "Exactly. Therefore, I have to be supportive and... um... to properly be supportive I need to... uh... see if you live first."

Josh managed to look both elated and insulted.

"I would point out that I cooked as well. I was an integral part of seed removal." Toby grunted.

Josh leaned over to Donna. "Yeah, but I'm the one who basted."

"Just like the rest of us went to school on your throw, right, Josh?"

"Hey, remember the team, Toby! Team Josh!"

C.J. picked up her knife and fork. "Okay, since none of us have apparently graduated from kindergarten, I will risk life and stomach and try your chicken with vegetables. Donna, you can direct an ambulance here?"

"Hey, hey, hey!"

"No worries, C.J."

C.J. cut herself a piece and cautiously took a bite. Toby and Josh stared at her, apprehensive. C.J.'s eyes widened; the men held their breaths. She chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, than grimaced. The men cringed.

"Donna..."

"Yes, C.J."

"It's actually delicious. We lost. I can't believe it; we lost."

"It was really good, Josh."

"Thank you, Donna."

They were alone in his living room.

"Did you enjoy cooking?"

"Sort of. I mean, actually doing it wasn't bad. I just wish..."

"What?"

"It would have been more fun if you had been helping me instead of Toby. And easier. 'Cause you actually know how to cook, although I hope I've proven at least that I can... You want a man who can cook. And I want to cook for you, Donna. I mean, I'm not ready to bake yet and I still don't understand the concept of "preheat" but I want..."

"Preheat means you turn on the oven."

"See, I don't understand why they can't just say turn on the oven."

"Well, I'll make it clearer for you when I'm teaching you how to cook my chicken pot pie."

"You'll... teach me how to cook?"

"Of course. Then we can cook together."

"But I thought you'd want a man whose already knows how to cook."

"I want a man whose willing to cook. Who doesn't expect me to make all three meals, everyday, until death do us part. But just because you don't know doesn't mean you aren't able and willing... that's the most important part."

He kissed her softly.

"You couldn't have made that clear before the side dish part?"

"Well, I wanted to see you suffer."

"Be careful, Donna. Toby and I already have plans for our revenge."

"You won. Why do you need revenge?" She stroked the side of his face.

"Gender equality, Donna."

"You are such the feminist, Josh."

"I know."

"So what are you going to force us to cook?"

"No cooking for you two."

"Ever again?"

"Toby's already talking about attempting the Chicken Osso-Buco Style."

"So barefoot and pregnant, just not in the kitchen?" She grinned at him mockingly before kissing him.

"Uh.. not until your leg heals and you know, we get married and I think you should probably wear shoes while you and C.J. are working on your project."

"That project being?"

"How do you feel about building us a gazebo?"


End file.
